


Wet, Wet, Wet

by icemakestars



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pool Party, Sexual Tension, wet clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icemakestars/pseuds/icemakestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sting thought that it was a good idea to throw Rogue into the pool. But then he emerged looking incredibly attractive, and gained the attention of everyone in Sabertooth. </p><p>And Sting realised that maybe it wasn't a good idea, not at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wet, Wet, Wet

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on tumblr a week or two ago, and thought that I should post it on here, as well! Enjoy!

 

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Rogue was stood talking to Dobengal, whose muffled voice did not travel to Sting’s sharp ears. But Rogue’s did, and Sting could make out wavers of amusement laced within his casual tone. And then Rogue smiled. It was free and unreserved and  _limitless_ , and Sting just  _had to know_  what they were talking about. Or join in the conversation, or do  _something_  other than stand there and listen, utterly dumbfounded.  

Rogue only acted this way around a select few, and Sting had always thought himself at the top of that very selective list. Dobengal, on the other hand, had never quite cut it. Until now, that is, and Sting felt… Well, a lot of things.  

Confusion, for the most part, and more than a little irked. There was something else, as well. Something heavy and sticky that closed up his throat and weighed down his stomach. Sting shook his head, unruly blond hair wavering in the whispers of a breeze that ruffled the trees and the skirts clinging to the women’s legs.  

Sting moved slowly towards the pair, eyes reflecting the water of Sabertooth’s pool at night-time. He had always wanted to host a party under the welcoming blanket of darkness, and the scorching summer days which bled into humid evenings provided every opportunity to do so.  

Dobengal had edged forward, placing a hand indiscriminately on the side of Rogue’s forearm. Anyone else would have missed how Rogue’s body tensed, his smile tightening the point of snapping, but not Sting. He knew how Rogue felt about physical contact, and he needed to- he _had_  to-  

Sting lunged with dragon-like power that hardly bettered Rogue’s own, grabbing his friend and hauling him over his shoulder princess-style.  

“Sting! What the-” Rogue was cut off into an incoherent gurgle as Sting dumped him, rather gracelessly, into the deep end of their pool.  

There was a moment of silence before Sting erupted into juvenile laughter. He was sure that that had been the  _best idea_  that he had ever had.  

Except it wasn’t, not really, because the next second Rogue was standing up and glaring, and all humour in Sting’s face vanished.

Rogue had taken his kimono off hours ago, and the white vest he always wore underneath clung to the muscles on his stomach and chest. His hair, now partially loose from the band he always subdued it with, was curly from the damp and hung to frame his angry, blushing face.

“Sting…” Rogue said, his voice low and rough. Coupled with his more than see through attire, Rogue had all of the attention on him.  

Yukino had covered her eyes, allowing only a bashful peek through her slender fingers. Rufus was shamelessly ogling, no doubt casting this scene into his more  _private_ memories. Even _Minerva_  had stopped relentlessly teasing a new recruit to stand and smirk at Rogue’s generous display. And Sting, well, he was lost for words. His throat was dry, eyes wide with surprise and longing. He had always thought Rogue was attractive, handsome at best, and assumed that those feelings were normal between two close friends. Staring at Rogue’s erotic, sensual figure, Sting knew that this was more than just platonic appreciation.

Sting glare around at all of the people eyeing up Rogue like a Vulcan would a pretty woman, and leaned himself forward, wrapping his arms around Rogue’s underarms and lifting him out of the pool.  

“S-Sting!” Rogue’s eyes were wide and disbelieving. He never met the gaze of his spectators, and the blush tainting the normal pale of his cheeks flushed even darker. He looked positively ready to  _implode_  when Sting cradled him like groom would a bride and began striding away from the bustle of their guildmates.

“What are you doing?” Rogue asked quietly.

“Removing you from the situation.” Sting’s voice was serious, a frown creasing the skin between his eyebrows. The way he spoke made it sound as though it was a potentially life-threatening scenario. Glancing around at the hungry glints in many of his friends eyes, Sting guessed that, for Rogue anyway, that may well be the case. For a moment, Sting thought that Rogue may argue. But then he buried his face into his own hands and allowed himself to be escorted away. 

They trudged in silence over the warm concrete surrounding their pool until Rogue began to shiver in Sting’s arms. There was no wind to torment them, but being simultaneously wet and outside was enough to make Rogue shudder. Sting placed Rogue back onto his feet. They were now on the side of the guildhall, further enough from the party that they would not be spotted by their comrades, and deep enough into the shadows that any passers by would not see them at all. Sting rubbed his neck awkwardly as conversation died on his tongue before he even got the chance to speak. Rogue, who was shuffling his feet into the dry earth, seemed to be having a similar problem.

Rogue wrapped his arms around himself as a gentle breeze chilled the warm summer evening. Hurriedly, Sting removed his jacket and handed it diffidently to Rogue.

“Here.” He muttered, smiling crookedly at his companion. What he had intended to do once out of the prying eyes of their friends, Sting wasn’t sure. Sting guessed that standing there not speaking to his oldest friend probably wasn’t it. Rogue accepted his jacket with a shy nod and draped it over his shoulders, cautiously trying not to get it too wet.  

“You could always wear that… instead of your shirt, I mean.” Sting offered. It was only when the words were already hanging between them and Rogue looked as though he was about to run- or maybe weep- that Sting realised exactly what he had just said. Hastily, he tried to justify himself.

“I mean, it’s not that I want to see you naked or anything! Not that that would be a  _bad_  thing, I just- ya know?” He burbled on, meeting Rogue’s eyes in a desperate attempt to make him understand that he hadn’t meant anything improper or sordid when he had made that offer. But if things turned out that way, well, Sting wasn’t about to  _complain_. Not at all.

“Seeing me naked wouldn’t be a… bad thing?” Rogue repeated slowly, chest rising and falling in quick bursts.

“You are… very… attractive.” Sting said, voice tight and smile forced. He meant every syllable with a ferocity that shocked even himself, but admitting something like to his  _best friend_ … it was far too embarrassing for Sting to handle.

“Attractive?” Rogue was so shocked, words were lost to him. Parroting the blissfully astounding things Sting was saying was the only think keeping him on his feet.

“Yes…” Sting smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and intensely admiring a bush just to the left of Rogue’s face.  

“ _Fuck_.” The curse word whispered under heated breath surprised Sting, but not nearly as much as the lips that followed. Rogue kissed him hard and relentless, pressing their bodies together without sparing a thought for Sting’s dry clothes.  

Sting immediately reciprocated, dipping his head down to push their lips more flush against each other. Rogue hummed at the contact, and when Sting licked at his lips enticingly, asking for permission to deepen the kiss, Rogue pulled back and  _moaned_. The sound reverberated between them, Sting’s eyes wide and hazed with arousal, Rogue self-conscious and blushing.

“I’m sorr-” Rogue begun, but was cut off by Sting’s lips on his once again. He backed Rogue up against the side of the guildhall, hands resting on the bricks next to Rogue’s shoulders. The chapped lips and hard muscles beneath him now were a far cry from the pillowy breasts and soft pouts that Sting was accustomed to, and it felt strange to him. Had it been Rufus or Dobengal or Natsu, Sting would have turned his head away in blatant disgust. But the hands gripping his back with desperate need belonged to Rogue, and the curly hair that Sting had began tugging at was Rogue, and that thought made Sting shudder with suppressed lust. When Sting began to run his hands uncertainly over Rogue’s chest, the shadow dragon pushed him away.

“Not here, not in public.” Rogue whispered breathlessly, forehead resting against Sting’s. Sting leaned forward and pressed one last, playful kiss to the bridge of Rogue’s nose, and then hesitantly offered out his hand. Rogue took it bashfully, fiddling his fingers with Sting’s in an astonished, joyous manner.

“Let’s go get you a change of clothes.” Sting grinned, walking swiftly towards the guildhall, pulling a very embarrassed Rogue behind him.


End file.
